


Batcat Returns

by Winterstar



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: Wherein Batcat returns, Mozzie scurries, Peter worries, Jones faints, Neal eats, and Elizabeth saves the day.





	

[ ](http://dmk0064.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/1502/8374)

**Title:** Batcat Returns  
 **Author** dmk0064/winterstar  
 **Rating:** PG13  
 **Genre:** crackfic  
 **Word Count:** 2700  
 **Spoilers:** Through Season 4  
 **Warnings:** language  
 **Summary:** Wherein Batcat returns, Mozzie scurries, Peter worries, Jones faints, Neal eats, and Elizabeth saves the day.

Special thanks to the lovely and excellent [](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/profile)[**kanarek13**](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/) for the artwork!

Peter winces at the hack crackling over the phone. The sound is distinctive, definite, and disgusting.

Hairball.

"Crimiminals stick in craw."

"You don't have a craw, you're a cat," Peter states but he actually has no idea if a cat with wings would have a craw. Isn't a craw something that birds have? Or is that cows? No, maybe that's cud.

"Batcat not talk with irritabills lawsman now, talk to Hero."

Peter glances out his door to the bullpen and sees Neal at his desk. As he watches, Neal rummages through a paper bag. He pulls out a sandwich and a cupcake. Peter frowns; it is ten o'oclock in the morning. Maybe he does have worms.

"Your golden boy is busy."

Neal stuffs the sandwich in his mouth, grimaces, gags, but continues to eat it.

"Tell, Neal, it's an emergency!"

"Mozzie?" It occurs to Peter then that he didn't even blink an eye at the thought of a flying cat phoning him. He wilts a little inside.

A yelp comes through the line.

"Batcat sits on crimiminals face. Batcat is wily."

"Or something," Peter mutters.

Mozzie only replies with another muffled yelp and something that sounds curiously like a whimper, but Peter does the right thing and ignores it. Even Mozzie can have his masculinity in peril with the idea of being bested by a cat. With wings.

"We're coming," Peter says and asks for the address.

Over the choking of Batcat as it spits out another hairball, Peter assumes, Mozzie yells in a strangulated voice, "Neal's I'm at Neal's!"

It all comes together for Peter and he snickers a bit before he remembers Mozzie is being detained by a flying feline. He disconnects, grabs his jacket, slings it on, and skips down the stairs.

"Hey, Hero, get your hat."

Neal spits out a bit of the sandwich and looks up at Peter. He looks pale like someone is force feeding him garbage. "Where are we going?"

"Let's just say Batcat and Mozzie aren't the best of friends."

Neal leans back in his chair. "Doesn't sound like a pressing problem to me."

"What?"

He sits up and waves over the buffet. "I'm eating my lunch."

"What the hell are you eating?"

Neal winks, takes a bite, forces it down, but not before he looks green around the gills. "Deviled ham."

"You hate deviled ham."

"Expanding my horizons."

Peter rolls his eyes. "Expanding something. Get your hat."

*oOo*

"You didn't answer your phone."

"Obviously for good reason," Neal says as he stares down at Mozzie. Batcat sits, alert with ears pricked high on its head, on Mozzie's face. Right over Mozzie's heart a clump of gooed hairball hardens.

"Batcat capturized de crimiminals for Hero."

"If you say so," Peter says and Neal swears he hears him mutter under his breath. "FBI agent not animal control."

"Anyone want anything to eat?" Neal says and goes to the refrigerator to retrieve a covered plastic bowl. He lifts it and examines it. "Still looks good. What kind of wine goes with egg salad?"

"I don't think wine is appropriate for this situation, perhaps bourbon," Mozzie says or Neal thinks that Mozzie might have said something akin to that since his mouth is right under Batcat's little black ass.

"Bourbon, it is!" Neal announces but Peter tears the container of eight day old egg salad from his grip, opens it, and heaves it in the trash after smelling it and making a face.

"That was my lunch."

"You just ate lunch."

"Deviled ham does not qualify as food of any type at all."

"Can Batcat eat de crimiminal's liver now?"

In a triple chorus the reply is a resounding no.

"Batcat sits on de crimiminals face and farts to show discontentendments."

Mozzie groans as Neal picks up a bottle of bourbon. Peter grabs the bottle away from him and murmurs, "For cryin' out loud, we're working."

"Wow, that really smells." Neal looks around and can't figure out if it's the egg salad or the gaseous emissions from the little beast on Mozzie's face.

Neal leans over Mozzie as he remains paralyzed by the pint sized terrorist. "Why is it that you haven't just pushed him off your face and stood up?" He thinks Mozzie might be enjoying the little flying feline getting all cozy on his face. This scares him a little.

"What are you implying?"

"Surely nothing."

"For Chr-, just stand up, Mozzie," Peter says and stoops to help Mozzie to his feet because Neal isn't going to help the imp.

Batcat lets out a howl and raises its extended claws at Peter.

"Hey, we're on the same side."

"Batcat shares not de spoils of de war." It stands up and presses its nails into Mozzie's cheeks.  
  
"Ow, ow, ow!" Mozzie says and waves at the cat. Batcat paws at the air and then becomes distracted entirely when Peter dangles one of Neal's hundred dollar ties in front of its face. It jumps off Mozzie and the little con man scrambles to his feet. "This is some kind of government conspiracy. Not only do they have you tethered, my friend, but they have this cyborg construct watching your apartment."

Batcat realizes Mozzie has escaped and leaps at Peter, scratching at his leg. Peter bats it away.

"Batcat knows all. Batcat knows lawsman crossing de lines."

"We all know crossing the lines is not good," Mozzie says and points to Batcat who takes flight around them. "I came into the apartment and went to have some wine and this thing attacked me."

"Batcat smells crimiminals, crimiminal smells like rotten eggs."

"That's the egg salad," Peter says, then lifts an eyebrow and then adds, "But it could be Mozzie."

"Hey!"

"Anyone want Ramien noodles?" Neal asks and smiles as he shakes a package.

*oOo*

"I'd like to lodge a complaint."

Peter sizes up Mozzie, standing at the entrance way to his office in the FBI building. He has something curled in his arms but Peter cannot tell what it is. It can't be dangerous considering he got through building security. But this is Mozzie. Peter leans back in his chair and says, "About?"

"Your fiendish spy methods. I understand the Patriot Act and its legalization of the invasion of privacy. The next thing you know, you'll want to put agents in my safe houses."

Peter rolls his eyes, rubs his forehead, and thinks he might be developing a migraine, or at least the need to drink during the day - heavily. He waves his hand to indicate that Mozzie should hurry up or get out.

"Get it off my back, Suit."

"What?"

"Your feline of the flying variety. It is following me everywhere."

"Well, if you weren't a crimimin- crimimin- if you didn't try to break the law all the time."

"Allegedly."

"You know that just works when people haven't actually seen you break the law," Peter says.

"When did you-?"

Peter whispers through clenched teeth. "Nazi u-boat treasure."

"Oh, good point, Suit." Something squirms in the crook of Mozzie's arms just as Jones peers into Peter's office.

"You have a visitor." Jones gives Mozzie a sidelong glance and frowns. "What do you-. Ah! Rat! You have a rat!"

The visitor appears at the door way crowding everyone into the office.

"Batcat is here to claim Robinrat." It flutters about then lands on Peter's desk.

"That government perversion of a feline cannot have my rat."

Jones smashes himself up against the wall and looks slightly grey. "Get it away."

"It's only a rat," Peter points to the little creature pointing its head out of Mozzie's coat.  
  
Batcat turns on Peter, pastes its ears against its black head and hisses. "Batcat protectfiy Robinrat against crookedly lawsman." It spits at Peter.

"I am not crooked." Peter puts his hand to his forehead and thinks _Jesus Christ, I'm having an argument with a cat about a rat._ He needs a drink.

"Batcat knows all. Batcat is wily." It stands up and starts to pick its little paws gently across the desk, and then it peers up at Mozzie with its big blue eyes. "Batcat needs Robinrat."

"Did you ever notice how it has the same blue eyes as Neal?" Mozzie narrows his eyes and says, "Maybe they're one and the same? Have you ever seen them in the same room at the same time?!"

“You just saw them together the other day.”

“Hologram.”

Neal chooses this moment to shove his way into the office. "I thought you said you were taking me to lunch?"

"Hero!"

Mozzie pokes Neal and Neal pokes him back. "Oh, nevermind," Mozzie says and deflates a degree.

Batcat launches off the desk and flaps its way to Neal. It pushes past Mozzie and upsets his hold on the rat. Percy tumbles out of Mozzie's grasp right into Jones who promptly faints.

Peter glares at everyone in his office and closes his eyes. "Fuck a duck."

*oOo*

Mozzie accosts them as they unload the grocery bags from the Taurus.

“That thing is ruining a perfectly good under the radar life I’m living.”

Peter frowns and thinks maybe he should have gone to Mass more like his mother told him, maybe he’s cursed now, cursed to be followed by a balding middle aged unknown felon and his nemesis, a flying cat. He hopes that Elizabeth remembered the hard liquor.

“It’s following me everywhere; my contacts don’t want anything to do with me. They think it has embedded cameras in its eyes.” When Peter doesn’t immediately respond, Mozzie adds, “I knew it, it does!”

“I don’t see it now,” Peter states and hands Elizabeth the keys so that she can open the door and bring in a bag.

“See what?”

“Batcat, you said it was following you around everywhere.” It occurs to Peter he has no idea what gender Batcat is, if it even has a gender. It worries him that he even cares. “I don’t see it anywhere.”

Mozzie scans the area, narrowing his eyes. He screws up his face and then realization pops and he gets that Eureka look on his face. “Maybe it had to find the government kitty litter box or report out its current activities.”

“At the kitty litter box?” Peter asks and thinks that might be right because this all seems like a pile of crap to him.

Mozzie follows him up the stairs to his door where Elizabeth is already sliding the key into the lock. As she opens the door, Peter notices the distinct lack of beeping from the alarm system. He tenses and moves into the house a head of Elizabeth and Mozzie, his grocery bags forgotten on the stoop.

Mozzie gasps behind him.

Sitting on the dinner room table, with a medium sized rat hanging out of its mouth is Batcat.

“Percy!”

The back door is open and Neal walks in. He carries a carton of leftover Chinese food from Peter’s refrigerator. He munches and waves the chop sticks at them.

“You said you would watch Percy, protect him,” Mozzie says. It looks like Mozzie might faint; his skin has a decided ashen color to it. “Now he’s dead.”

“What? No,” Neal says through a mouthful of Peter’s leftovers. “They’re just playing.”

Batcat drops the rat on the table. “Batcat no kill Robinrat.” The rat rolls over and tries to scurry away, but Batcat flings out a paw and grabs it. “Robinrat not too smart. Be good sidekick. Sidekick always with the stupidities.”

“No, sidekicks are not,” Mozzie says.

“Why are you eating my leftovers,” Peter says. “And why are you at my house on a Saturday afternoon?”

Neal digs around in the carton and pulls out a piece of pork. “You said I could help myself to anything while I was petting sitting.”

“My pet, my dog. Not your cat and Mozzie’s rat. Both of which weren’t here when we left.”

“I don’t have a pet,” Neal says and shoves more fried rice in his mouth.

“I want my rat back,” Mozzie says.

“Where’s my dog?”

“Batcat loves wimpy dog, good for eating liver.”

Peter fumes. “First of all, you are not eating anyone’s liver. Second, that is not a sidekick but for some strange and left undiscovered reason this man’s pet rat, give it back. Third, everyone out of my house.”

“Geez, Peter, get a grip,” Neal says and places the empty carton on the kitchen island. “It isn’t like I broke down the door. I picked it clean and I already knew the code for the house alarm.”

From somewhere in the distance, Peter can hear the music from the _Twilight Zone_ playing.

Mozzie walks over to Batcat but it refuses to allow the rat any recourse. It lies on top of the rat with its fangs clearly poised over the rat’s neck.

Just as Peter is about to protest that no one is listening to his command, he hears a scratching coming from the cabinet under the sink. A little whine follows it.

Peter crosses to it and opens up the door. Sitting squished under the sink, Satchmo wags his tail and climbs out. Peter has to assist because there is really no way a dog that big could get out of such a small space. He cannot imagine how he got in there in the first place.

“Uh, that’s where Satchmo got to,” Neal says.

Batcat makes a little noise that sounds distinctly like a _heh_.

As Mozzie starts to whine more about the damned rat and Neal starts raiding his refrigerator again, the world around Peter bursts into a bleeding red color as his anger ratchets up.

A unique sound though stops everything. A click, pop, and slide of a metal can opening and he turns to see Elizabeth placing a can of tuna on the kitchen floor. Batcat flies down to it, thus allowing Mozzie to rescue Robinrat. He scrambles out the door without a look or a thank you thrown over his shoulder.

Her work not done, Elizabeth opens the refrigerator, hands Neal the rest of the leftover Chinese food, which slightly pisses off Peter, and a plate with leftover pie on it. She pats him on the shoulder and leads him out the door. She waves to him and shuts the door before he says another word.

Once Batcat finishes off the tuna, Elizabeth bends down, scratches it behind the ears and grabs a hold of it. She scoots it out the door and locks it behind the little flying beast.

She dusts her hands off and smiles at him. “My work here is done.”

He cocks an eyebrow, grins back at her, and says, “I don’t think so.”

Later, as they lie in bed and snuggle, Peter stares at the chasing shadows on the ceiling of their room. “I still don’t understand.”

“What, hon? The cat?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“Neal.”

“Well, we all have our questions about Neal. I would think a flying, talking cat would garner more questions,” El says.

“You would think.” It should bother him that he isn’t questioning the existence of Batcat. Having Mozzie and Neal in his life has skewed his sense of right and wrong. He understands now it has also changed his idea of reality. He thinks maybe he should talk to someone about this issue.

“So, Neal?”

“Yeah.”

“What about him?” El says.

“I don’t understand why he’s eating all the time.”

“Maybe he’s pregnant,” El jokes.

Peter wants to gag. He feels the vomit at the back of his throat and he has to swallow it down lest he ruin a perfectly good memory of afternoon nookie. “Please don’t let it be that.”

“Peter, I was joking.”

“If a cat can talk and fly why wouldn’t Neal be able to get pregnant?”

She drops down on the bed and stares up at the shadows as they dance across the ceiling. “You have a point.”

“Fuck a duck.”

“No, I think the question is who fu-.”

Peter holds up his hands and says, “Don’t say it, El. Please don’t say it.”

She clamps a hand over her mouth but she cannot stop herself through the giggles. “Who’s the father?”

He wants to close his eyes, he wants to forget. Instead he sees the little silhouette of a cat with wings in shadow projected on his ceiling. “Oh for the love of-.”

THE END. 


End file.
